Merlin Academy Descendants Novels & Stories

Alaric was silent, and this silence was louder than any words. "No, no! I will not become an enemy of my own people. My family, Elowen, my mother, they won't understand. Why me? Why did you come to me out of all the descendants?" "Because only Leronse could communicate with spirits. His blood runs in you. Your mother passed part of that ability to you, Cedric. Have you forgotten? The 18 th descendant and a descendant of Leronse. You were the reason for that prophecy to exist. Both my and Leronse's descendant."

"I am a Necromancer, a Summoner to be exact. And so are you." Hunter gave me a look of disbelief. "I don't have powers. Not like what you just did." "You do. We Reinhardts are different, our powers have to be activated. I only received my Talent, as we call it, about a year ago - actually, a few months less than that." He stared off out the kitchen window for a long moment. "And the others? Are they like you?" "Avery is Necromancer," I replied, and finished my soda. I tossed the can into the recycling bin. "She's Head of the Manser family. The Mansers are known for their Talent in Vision, seeing the past, present, and future, even."

Again, they all were aware of this, and yet they all grumbled against it. The line was moving, and Kilvic was moving with it. In his three weeks in the academy, he’d unsurprisingly made no new friends. He’d learned the given names of some of his classmates though. Sharmin was heir to the noble family of the Vloodless, the only mage family capable of blood magic, and Nasrine, was named Castrel. He’d grown to greeting terms with a mouse of a boy named Janic and a girl from Ariadne’s hall who was as tall as Moss but slender as a fox, named Faraniel. The names of the others were as important as those of his hall members, and he found he only often recalled them when they were of immediate requir

“She… she's not like that.” “Oh, yeah?” Ildara snorted. She began to unpack the contents of the suitcase; the rest contained only clothes and several necklaces with black stones. “Listen, Venus.” Ildara emphasized when saying the name of Venus. “I'm telling you a legendary true story in Dasina. Amerta is Bizura; his grandfather Giris Druiksa is Bizura; Langit is also Bizura. Then one day, somehow they, Amerta and Langit, were involved in one-night-stand love. And you were born—someone that everyone just knew—Venus the princess of Bizura. The only pure Bizura descendant; not just crossbreed. Then—”

They continued to build upon the foundations laid by their forebears, pushing the boundaries of collaboration between supernaturals and humans even further. One such descendant, Seraphina, possessed a unique blend of werewolf and witch heritage. Growing up in a world where supernaturals and humans were allies, she found herself drawn to the pursuit of knowledge and adventure. Seraphina harbored a deep passion for archaeology, driven by a desire to uncover ancient artifacts and uncover the untold stories of her ancestors.

He continued, "Sebastian had four daughters all of which possessed magical powers except one, Morganna. Although Morganna lacked magical abilities, she was strong and formidable and caught the eye and attention of a king named Donovan, King Donovan and Morganna became our ancestors," "So, you are telling me our ancestors are witches?, then why didn't the Donovan family possess magic?," He asked with a chuckle. He was open to ideas, however, this was simply too much to believe. "Because Morgana's magic was recessive, well at least until now. Your mother's witch's gene and father's Donovan's genes, unlocked Morganna's recessive genes. You Possess her hidden abilities which she could never use,

Everything he did lately felt too controlled, like he was fighting something inside him. “They call themselves The Descendants,” he said at last. “But they’re not bound by blood. They’re bound by memory. And power. The kind that doesn’t fade with generations. The kind buried beneath lands like yours. And mine.” Yvette swallowed. “What do they want with Cara?” “The same thing they wanted with me,” he said. “To break her. And rebuild her in their image.” Yvette’s hand curled around the glass. “Why the land? What’s buried there?”

The sconces on the walls were lit, but the flames burned blue, casting everything in a funeral glow. “You’re aware of the academy’s purpose, I presume?” “To educate and domesticate society’s charming little nightmares?” Another almost-smile. “We refine the raw potential of the gifted. Train those with bloodlines steeped in magic, curse, or darkness to control their natures.” “So I’m a tourist.” “No,” she said, glancing at me sidelong. “You’re an anomaly. And I do not abide mysteries without answers.” We passed beneath a vaulted archway, and I realized the walls were whispering. Not in a metaphorical way. Actual whispering. In a language I didn’t know but instinctively distrusted.

She growls in disapproval at my sarcastic tone. “The Walker’s are witches Rosalie. Which means that any descendants are witches too.” “Honestly Nina, have you been living under a rock?” I was growing more than agitated. “Think Rosalie, what did Morag tell you? She told you that every witch that has ever lived is written…” “In the great grimoire.” I finished. Her meaning dawning on me. “That’s it, Nina. You’re a genius. If Melinda has any descendants, they will all be listed in the witch’s spell book.”

Others were just some more pieces of trash. This is lovely to be honest!! "You're the king?..... I'm sorry your highness for not acknowledging your presence." He said in a voice filled with fake reverence. "You didn't have to acknowledge my presence because you don't know me personally and perhaps your treacherous activities also blinded your eyes to the royal mark on my arm. Let's let that slide anyways. I've been getting some eerie reports about you going about packs in this lycanthropy abducting people. " The lycan king questioned and I just stared on as I approached them slowly so I could hear everything in details.